


pora

by kitchensink (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Amusement Parks, M/M, Roller Coasters, au - abigail is will's legal daughter and everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kitchensink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal ride a roller coaster; it goes about as well as one would think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pora

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sonicdriveby](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sonicdriveby).



> my friend suggested i write some hannibal stuff so like ???? heres this
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: im also currently looking for a beta. if ur into it, go ahead and hmu!

'Singles must be paired.'

The neon colors scream at you, bubble letters bursting with glee that, unfortunately, you do not share. Your daughter, Abigail, has disappeared from your side to scamper off with a boy she knew from school, and you're considering going on this giant roller coaster. 

Or, well, you were, until you remembered that you're one person, and singles must be paired. 

So, pushing down the feeling of crushing defeat and growing cynicism, you turn on your heel to leave. Only to run smack dab into one Hannibal Lecter - the last man you'd expect to see at an amusement park, but nonetheless, here he is.

You feel as if he's been following you, because without a beat of hesitation he greets you with his usual, "Will."

And you're forced into your usual, "Dr. Lecter."

He eyes you with interest; you would call it a predatory stare, but you know better. "I see Abigail isn't with you," he says, head tilting to the side just so. 

"Keen observation, I didn't think you'd notice. Is this a check up from Child Protective Services? I haven't let her play with fire since the incident."

It drags a laugh out of him, a low chuckle from the back of his throat. You smile smally, dip your chin down. "No, I just happen to be.... passing by, I ran into you merely by chance," it is the most blatant, bullshit lie you have ever heard. 

You take it with grace and ease. 

"I'd hardly pin you as the type to be visiting a place where people vomit on each other because they ate too many fried twinkies before getting on a ride like this," you gesture vaguely behind you at the huge coaster, and Hannibal's eyes slowly drag up from you to the ride. He scrutinizes it, fingers curling slightly at his thigh - you're unsurpried to see that besides the more casual button up shirt, he's still wearing dress pants. 

It's only a second or so before his gaze it back to you. "I like to step out of my comfort zone occasionally." 

It is another lie; you see through his paper thing guise so easily that it almost makes you uncomfortable. He's too relaxed, too transparent. Like a game, he is playing you into a false sense of security. 

You will not fall for it.

"Were you planning to ride?" He asks it with so little conviction that you want to laugh. 

Instead a half amused snort escapes you. "I suppose, but," you jerk your thumb towards the obnoxious sign, "singles have to be paired, and as it happens, I'm one person and don't particularly like sharing close perimeters with people I'm unfamiliar with." 

He looks at you and you realize your mistake too late. Hannibal's lips turn up, his teeth just barely visible - it's the shark smile, the one he uses when he's got his victims trapped. You have fallen.

The hand at his side curls once more; "I'd be willing to go with you." 

Scratch that. You have not only fallen, but you have literally been sitting in his trap for the past three minutes. The metal squeaks and clamps around your throat, you are drowning in blood and Hannibal fucking Lecter is offering to sit thigh-to-thigh with you for some cheap thrill roller coaster. You scramble for an answer.

"That won't be necessary. We should do something more... adult, anyway, that's your thing, isn't it?" You're uncomfortable; the ride is looking more daunting by the second, even with Hannibal there to drag your attention away.

"I'm here to step out of my comfort zone."

"Yes, but, really, this seems to be moving to fast, even for you. I suggest we go grab a beer and imagine we're teenagers going to the carnival for the first time. Win ugly stuffed animals at booths."

"You're nervous."

"No, I'm not."

"Will." He looks so completely enthralled by the fact that you are desperately trying to maneuver your way out of this. His voice is practically sing-song, and you're melting into the ground.

"Hannibal." 

A hand outstretches to rest, feather light, on your shoulder. You're dying. This is the death of you. "As a friend, I'm telling you to relax. And as a medical professional, I'm reminding you that the proper way to cope with any strong emotion you are feeling is to do something that may take your mind off of it," he gestures with his other hand just past you, "this will suffice." 

Inhaling, you shove down the feeling to punch him directly in the jaw, keeping your face as flat as possible. Slowly, you dip your shoulder out of his grasp and nod. "I'd appreciate if you'd keep the psychobabble in your office, I'll remind you that I get enough of it from Alana when I'm not around you. But," you turn slightly, looking at the monster of a ride before rolling your shoulders back just so, "alright. Your point has been made. Let's get on with it." 

Which is how, fifteen minutes later, you're stuffed into a much too small ride car and trying to hold a pleasant conversation as gears grind against each other to push you into the sky. The boards ars rattling; you'd fail to notice exactly how old and decrepit this thing was at first. You'll be having nightmares about Hannibal and roller coasters for weeks.

"I've never understood the appeal of something like this - " he's talking at such an even rate that it almost makes you forget that you're slowly inching farther and farther from the ground " - a cheap thrill for a minute or two, with nothing to come from it but a lingering dull sense of euphoria and - " crrreeak, creeeak, each little snap and twist of the gears is making you dizzy " - an upset stomach." 

You realize why you weren't so keen to get on as the ride reaches it's peak and launches you downwards.

You're fucking scared shitless of rides like this.

There's not much you can do to get out of it, so you cling to Hannibal as if he were a giant rock. You don't even bother looking up from your place buried in his shoulder until the coaster comes to a wretched stop at it's station. Within seconds, you're peeling yourself off of him and using shaking fingers to pry off the safety belts. 

Feeling sick, you half stumble half walk towards the exit, swallowing all your important organs that are threatening to pop out back down. From behind you, a voice chides, "Now that wasn't so bad. I wouldn't mind going again, but.." 

You twist your face into a scowl as you turn to a smiling Dr. Lecter, his hands clasped behind his back. His grin only widens.

"All singles must be paired."


End file.
